


maybe tonight i'll get the story right

by nasaflower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drarry, Drunk Harry, Flirting, Flying, Harry is a Little Shit, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Pining Draco Malfoy, Quidditch, Sharing a Room, draco is always blushing, i love drarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasaflower/pseuds/nasaflower
Summary: Harry and Draco are forced to share a dorm in eighth year. Friendship and other things ensue.





	maybe tonight i'll get the story right

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from outright by wild party.

“You’re kidding,” Draco Malfoy said. 

“God,” Harry Potter said.

Professor McGonagall was staring at the boys. The rest of the students gathered in the eighth-year common room sniggered. 

“What’s wrong, gentlemen?” she asked, with a slight upturn of her mouth. “I was not joking. You and Mr. Malfoy are to share a dorm, along with Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Zabini.” 

“I know, I know, sorry,” Harry said, waving his hand. “It’s just, of course.”

“What?” Draco asked, annoyed. 

“We hate each other. Or used to,” Harry added after a glance at Draco. “Of course we’d be sharing a dorm.”  
“We need to encourage inter-house unity, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said tersely. “eighth-years must get used to being around each other. After all, there are no houses in eighth-year. Only unity.”  
“I think we’re only unified in the fact that we all hate each other, Professor,” Blaise said. 

“Then you will have to get over that. You’ve all been through a lot together. I would have thought the war would have brought you all closer.”

“Harry, we get to room together!” Neville said excitedly. Harry offered him a smile. 

Professor McGonagall continued to list room assignments. A new eighth-year common room had been constructed, covered in various decorations from the four houses. There were red and gold pillows, blue banners, green couches and yellow tables. When the eighth-years had first been led into the common room by McGonagall, there had been surprised giggles. The whole room looked like a rainbow. 

“Mr. Weasley, Mr. Finnigan, Mr. Thomas, and Mr. Macmillan,” McGonagall announced, and Dean and Seamus high fives. Ron gave Harry a disappointed look. They’d been sharing a dorm since they were eleven, and it would be odd to be away from each other. Professor McGonagall read through the rest of the boy’s dormitory assignments, and then moved on to the girls. Hermione, Parvati, Luna and Padma were placed together. When McGonagall finished the list, she addressed the students.

“I encourage all of you to branch out beyond your houses. All of you are brave, wonderful students and everyone, in each house, deserves to have a great last year at Hogwarts. If I hear of any fighting, there will be consequences. I know you are all technically adults now, but that does not mean you will not be punished for ridiculous and  _ childish _ behavior.” She shot a particularly pointed look at Harry and Draco, and Harry knew she was referring to their childhood rivalry. He looked at Draco, and then the floor.

“Also, I might add that  _ no  _ alcohol will be permitted on school grounds. All firewhiskey will stay in Hogsmeade,” McGonagall continued, and a couple students snorted. Harry was quite sure that rule would be broken during their first week. “Rules aside, I welcome you all back to Hogwarts, and hope you enjoy your last year.”

And with that, she was out the door and the students moved toward their dorms. 

“I can’t believe it’s our last year,” Hermione said, and Ron nodded. 

“It’s kind of sad,” Ron said. 

“Well, then let’s make the most of it,” Harry said, smiling. He was back at Hogwarts, back  _ home _ , and he couldn’t be happier. Even better, he wasn’t planning on getting killed this year. Voldemort was gone, and he was free to enjoy his life, for once. He couldn’t help smiling, even as Draco and Blaise shot glares at him as he entered their dorm. The house elves had already brought their luggage up, and Neville was unpacking. He hung posters on the wall behind his bed, and Harry followed suit. He tacked up pictures of Sirius and Remus, and Hedwig, and his parents. He also pinned up a newspaper clipping that read:  _ THE WAR ENDS: DARK LORD DEFEATED _ . He took a moment, very quickly, to feel the pang of sadness in his throat for all he had lost, and then finished unpacking. 

“I’m going to go see if Ernie has unpacked,” Blaise said to Draco, who nodded. He said nothing to Neville and Harry as he left the dorm. 

“I’m going to go find Luna,” Neville said as he stood. “Are you, uh,” 

“I’ll be fine, Neville,” Harry said intercepting the wary look Neville shot Draco, who was tacking a picture of his mother on the wall. 

“Longbottom, I’m not going to murder Potter. You can go,” Draco sneered, and Neville left, though he still looked worried. 

“You can’t blame him for being wary,” Harry said, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, Potter, I don’t blame him. After all, I  _ was  _ a Death Eater.” He almost spat the words.

“I know you’re not anymore, Malfoy,” Harry said, aiming for semi-kindness, but the words came out cold. He hadn’t meant to emphasize  _ anymore. _

“You’d be the only one,” Malfoy muttered, and Harry was going to maybe say something else, but Draco left the room before he could. 

Harry laid back on his bed with a sigh, hoping for a short nap before dinner. 

 

Being in the Great Hall had always felt comforting to Harry. The soaring ceiling, the floating candles, the glint of Dumbledore’s smile in the middle of the staff table. Of course, Dumbledore wasn’t here this year. Still, the buzz and hum of students and food and laughter filled Harry with calmness and joy. 

“Hi Harry!” Hermione and Ron said as he sat down. It was slightly odd to sit at the back of the room, adjacent to the house tables. He kind of missed the Gryffindor table, but his friends were here, along with all the other students he had fought with, side by side. 

“Hi, pass the potatoes?” Harry said, and proceed to eat and eat. Harry and Dean joked, Luna and Seamus had a discussion about quidditch, and Ron slung an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. Harry looked down the table and saw Blaise press a kiss to Ernie Macmillan’s cheek, and Pansy Parkinson fake gagged as Malfoy and Ernie laughed. Seeing Draco laugh was not something Harry experienced often. Just as he had this thought, Draco looked over and his smile faded into a faint scowl. Harry looked away. 

“Has Malfoy tried to kill you yet?” Ron asked around a roll in his mouth, and Harry scowled. 

“Ron, he’s not going to kill me.” 

“Only ‘cuz you saved his life,” Ron said, chewing the roll more thoroughly. Harry shrugged.

“Malfoy isn’t that bad, Ron. Imagine the pressure that was on him,” Hermione said, and Ron scowled. 

“Doesn’t mean he had to go Death Eater.”

“Ron, he understands his mistakes. He’s working to correct them.” At this, Ron was silent. Hermione shot a smile down the table, and Draco looked rightly confused as he noticed 2 out of 3 Golden Trio members smiling his way. He assumed they were talking about him, but the smiles didn’t make sense. The frown Weasley was sporting was far more usual. Draco gave a slight nod their way, and then turned back to Blaise. His arm had snaked around his boyfriend’s shoulders, and Ernie was chatting happily while Blaise listened contently. They had started dating after the war, and had been pretty much inseparable since. Blaise had been disappointed when they hadn’t been placed in the same dorm. 

Speaking of dorms, Draco was still upset. He already had been worried about running into Potter, feeling the guilt on his own shoulders, and now he was stuck sharing a dorm with him. Draco was okay when he was alone, he could hold the self-hatred at bay. But when he saw Potter, with his scars and his smile, he couldn’t help but hate himself for not sticking with the right side all along. He owed his life to Potter, and it was entirely his fault. It didn’t help that the boy who lived kept shooting small smiles Draco’s way. Each grin was another reminder that Draco didn’t deserve them. 

 

Classes started the next day, and all eighth-years had the same schedule. Therefore, they were all equally stressed. All the students who hadn’t finished their studies last year were struggling to catch up. Some had even asked seventh years to help them with their homework. Draco spent hours in the library. He did his homework whenever he could, in his dorm, at breakfast, wherever. He was sitting on the school grounds under a tree when Harry walked up behind him. 

“Fancy a fly, Malfoy?” he asked, and Draco startled. He turned around and squinted into the sun. 

“I’m busy, Potter. Some of us actually want to study.”

“C’mon, Malfoy. Are you gonna spend your last year buried in books?”

“That’s the point. This is a  _ school _ .”

“Fine, I’ll be on the quidditch pitch. Join me if you get bored of being boring,” Harry said, walking off toward the pitch with Firebolt in hand. Draco nearly laughed at his ridiculousness. 

Draco stared back down at his books, until his attention was snagged by Potter, flying through the air on his broom. Draco had always been impressed by Harry’s flying, smooth and quick and fluid, but he took special notice now. Potter must have practiced a lot over the summer. 

Draco was impressed he lasted ten minutes before he closed his book and ran inside to get his broom. 

“I knew you’d get bored of your fucking books sooner or later,” Harry said as Draco flew up to meet him, high above the quidditch pitch. 

“Shut up, Potter.” 

Harry shrugged and gestured to the snitch, which fluttered in his hand. 

“Beat you to it?” 

“You wish,” Draco said, and Harry grinned as he let the golden ball go. It fluttered in front of where they hovered for a moment, and then it was gone. Draco was immediately thrown headfirst into the game. He urged his broom to go higher, higher, scanning for the snitch. Harry was below him, circling around the pitch. After a moment, no snitch in sight, Harry angled his broom up toward Draco’s. 

“No luck, Malfoy?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Draco replied, smirking. Then he noticed a blur of gold below Harry, and took off flying toward it. Harry was right behind him, he knew, so he urged his broom to go faster, faster. The snitch was flying toward the ground, and so was Draco, and so was Harry. He wanted to pull up, because the ground was coming fast, but the snitch wasn’t wavering in it’s path. He stretched his arm out, as far as he could, and laughed as his hand closed around the snitch. Then he hit the ground. 

He rolled a few feet, laughing, and Harry pulled his broom up beside him. He stepped off and offered Draco a hand, which he took. He stood and brushed himself off. 

“Nice one,” Harry said, and Draco smiled. Harry thought he should smile more. 

“Thanks, Potter,” Draco said, no malice. 

“You’re not as shit a seeker as you used to be,” Harry said, laughing, and Draco flipped him off, although he was smiling. 

After that, it seemed they were friends. 

 

“Draco, what’d you get for number fifteen on the History of Magic assignment?” 

“Flamel.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. They were sitting on the common room couches, the green fabric soft below them. The fire in the fireplace buzzed. Harry penciled in the answer on his homework. 

“What the fuck,” whispered Ron to Hermione, across the room. “Since when does he call him Draco?” 

“I don’t know, Ron. They seem to get along okay.” 

“How? It’s _Malfoy_. He fights with anything that can talk.”  
“You know he’s changed. Calmed down, even. I’m honestly surprised they didn’t become friends sooner,” Hermione said, and Ron scoffed. 

“I don’t like it,” Ron said. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Harry likes him, and I support anything that makes Harry happy. He needs more friends and less fans, and you know it.”

“I still don’t like it,” Ron said, after a moment. 

 

Harry woke up screaming. This was not a new thing for Harry, but he hadn’t had a nightmare for a couple of weeks. He sleepily thought he’d probably been to busy for the nightmares. Breathing hard, he sat up in his bed. He had been with Voldemort, and that’s all he could remember. His chest heaved. 

“Potter?” said a quiet voice that Harry recognized as Draco. He sighed, hoping he hadn’t woken anyone up. 

“Sorry,” Harry said, hoping he had whispered loud enough to hear through the curtains drawn around his bed. “Nightmare.” 

“It’s okay,” Draco said, and there was a silence like he was going to say more, but he never did. Harry fell back asleep a few minutes later. 

The next morning at breakfast, Harry noticed Draco shooting him curious and slightly worried looks. Harry tried not to notice, and hoped Draco wouldn’t bring up the nightmares. 

Of course, Draco asked about the nightmares as soon as they were back in their dorm, getting ready for classes. Blaise and Neville had already left.

“Potter—” Draco started, and Harry cut him off.

“They’re just nightmares. I’m fine.”

“Okay. But I have a potion that could help, if you want it,” Draco offered, quietly.

“What does it do?” 

“Just creates a dreamless sleep. It works quite well.”  
“I… okay. I’ll try it. Thank you,” Harry said, and Draco nodded, reaching for his desk drawer. He pulled out a vial of light blue potion. 

“Half of that keeps the dreams away for 3 days,” Draco said, handing Harry the potion. Harry nodded, pushing thoughts of poison out of his mind.

“Thank you,” Harry said again. Draco smiled. 

 

The potion did in fact work, much to Harry’s relief the next morning. He hadn’t slept that well in ages. He was well rested and able to get through his Friday classes without too much exhaustion, and he had Draco to thank. 

Harry ended up being very glad he’d gotten a lot of sleep, because that evening it was proposed that there would be a party. 

“Finally, it’s the weekend,” Ron had pointed out, which got Seamus and Dean talking about parties, and Blaise and Pansy offering to get the Firewhiskey, and Hermione looking slightly flustered at the idea of the broken rules. 

“It’ll be fun, ‘Mione. It’s our last year,” Ron said before kissing her cheek, and she quietly agreed. 

Luna charmed the common room door to stay locked, Neville summoned some chocolates and goblets, and Pansy walked down the dormitory steps with a wide grin and Firewhiskey bottles in hand. 

“Professor McGonagall is going to kill us,” Hermione stated, but she grabbed a goblet anyway. 

Someone started up a game of cards, which involved a lot of yelling. Ernie seemed to be racking up a lot of cards, to his frustration. Luna had brought down a bag of makeup and was now placing various products on Padma Patil’s face. Dean had an arm around Seamus, who seemed to be blushing something awful. Harry was sitting on the floor in front of the fire with Ron and Blaise, watching Hermione, Draco, and Pansy play a game of exploding snap. When one of the cards exploded in Draco’s hand, Ron fell of the couch he laughed so hard. Draco rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Harry couldn’t stop grinning. 

It was nearly two a.m. when the party started to wind down. Ron and Hermione had gone upstairs a while ago, claiming they were “tired.” Harry figured they’d just gone to snog. He sat on one of the couches, while Draco sat on the other with Blaise and Ernie, who were getting handsier and handsier. Finally, after Blaise quite obviously grabbed Ernie’s crotch, Draco moved couches and sat beside Harry. Harry giggled. He did that when he was drunk. 

“You know, I thought Drunk Draco would be slightly less frowny.”

“I’m not frowny,” Draco said, frowning. “And I’m not drunk. Just buzzed.” Harry giggled again. 

“You know what, I like it when you frown, so it’s okay,” Harry said, hiccuping. “I like your face in general.” 

There was a pause. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Er,” Harry said, intelligently. Draco laughed softly. 

“Okay, Potter. You’re drunk.”

“Fuck, I hope I am. Otherwise I’d be worried about the moving floor.”

“We’re in Hogwarts. The staircases move, so that’s not a stretch.”

“Fair point,” Harry said, hiccuping again. 

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” Draco said, standing up. He glanced at Ernie and Blaise, who had fallen asleep, hands still on each other. He let out a laugh. “Coming?” 

“Oh,” Harry said. Draco didn’t think he caught the double meaning. Harry was too drunk. Still, Draco shouldn’t have invited a drunk Harry to bed, even if it wasn’t  _ Draco’s _ bed. Harry stood, stumbled, and then straightened. Draco moved toward the staircase, and Harry followed. 

Halfway up the steps, Harry tripped. 

“Fuck,” Harry said. Draco snorted. 

“Are you going to be able to make it? God, you’re a lightweight,” Draco said, but moved down a couple stairs and offered Harry an arm.

“Am not,” Harry said. 

“You barely had a gobletful, Harry.”

“At least I didn’t have a gobletempty. I’m an optimist, you know.”

“Oh my god. Drunk Harry tells the worst jokes.” 

“Rude,” Harry said as they pushed open their dormitory door. Neville was already passed out in his bed. Draco hoped Blaise would make it up on his own. Harry let go of Draco’s arm, realizing he was still holding it. He stumbled to his bed and pulled out his pajamas. Draco turned his back as Harry struggled to change. Draco put on his own pajamas, slightly faster than Harry. 

“If only the public could see the Chosen One now,” Draco remarked, laughing at Harry’s messy hair and ratty pajamas. 

“They’d still love me,” Harry said, and Draco nodded.

“Everyone does,” Draco said, and Harry didn’t seem to catch the meaning.  _ Thank God _ , Draco thought. Harry waved his wand to turn off the light, and the boys climbed into bed. 

“Goodnight, Draco,” Harry mumbled.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Draco replied. A thought followed: Draco had a crush on Harry. He considered this for a moment. Then, he let himself fall into a pit of self-hatred. 

Harry slept soundly, and Draco cast a silencing spell before screaming into his pillow. 

 

Harry woke up hungover, starving, and with vague memories of last night. He remembered talking to Draco, and the exploding snap game, and that’s about all. Shrugging, he changed into his robes and made his way down to breakfast. Neville, Hermione, and a few others were at the eighth-year table. Harry was sure everyone else was still sleeping. 

“Mornin’, Harry,” Neville said.

“Hi Harry,” Hermione said.

“Morning,” Harry mumbled, shoving toast into his mouth. 

“Some night,” Luna said as she sat down next to them. 

“Didn’t Seamus and Dean end up snogging?” Parvati asked, sitting down the table a little. 

“I think they did more than that,” said Ron, who had just joined the table. “Seamus was in Dean’s bed all night, and they were suspiciously quiet.”

“Silencing spell?” Hermione asked, laughing, and Ron nodded. 

“Good for them,” Neville said, and Harry nodded. He didn’t think he’d snogged anyone last night. He was fairly sure. 

“Hey, Ron, I didn’t snog anyone last night, right?” Harry whispered, and Ron shook his head.

“Not that I know of. Unless you and Malfoy got to it when I went upstairs,” Ron said, and Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. 

“Uh. I don’t think that happened,” Harry said, cheeks warm. 

“Can you imagine?” Ron said, laughing, and Harry looked down. Honestly, he could imagine. He had imagined. Because Draco was interesting, and a challenge, and frankly gorgeous. Harry halfway wished he  _ had _ snogged Malfoy last night, but he also wanted to be sober for that experience. 

After breakfast, Harry had a shower. As he walked into the dorm room after, towel wrapped around his waist, he nearly ran into Draco. 

“Sorry,” Draco said, and then realized that Harry was standing there, almost naked, and they were alone in the dorm. “Uh.”

“Can I, um, get through?” Harry asked, because Draco was standing in the doorway, not moving or speaking or breathing. 

“Sorry,” Draco said again, and moved to the side. He let his eyes snag on Harry for a moment, his tan skin, a single drop of water falling from the nape of his neck down, down—

  
  


“Did you already get breakfast?” Harry asked as he knelt down to dig through his trunk for clothes. Draco blinked. He was sure his cheeks were pink. 

“No. Did you?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “Heard some things, too. Apparently Dean and Seamus hooked up.”

“About time,” Draco said. “Those two have been making eyes at each other since third year.”

“You didn’t have to share a dorm with them,” Harry said. “Every night the sexual tension was so thick you could have cut it.” Draco laughed at this, and then realized he was supposed to be on his way out. 

“I’m going to um, go to breakfast,” Draco said, and Harry nodded. 

“Want to go flying after?” Harry asked, pulling out a red jumper and holding it up to his body as if to see if it fit. 

“Sure,” Draco said. “I’ll meet you at the pitch.” 

Draco needed to get a grip. Or maybe just a new fucking dorm mate. 

Harry, as he was walking across the grounds to the quidditch pitch, thought for a moment about Draco’s pink cheeks. He decided, as he climbed onto his broom, that making Draco Malfoy blush was something he needed to do  _ a lot _ more. He might have even considered it a goal. 

Draco joined him on the pitch a few moments later. 

“I miss quidditch,” Draco said, flying up next to Harry. 

“Me too, I wish McGonagall would’ve allowed an eighth-year team.”

“I like this though,” Draco said, doing a quick little flip on his broom. 

“Malfoy, actually admitting he enjoys spending time with me? I’m shocked!” 

“Shut the fuck up, Potter,” Draco said, flustered, and Harry grinned. Harry flew closer to Draco, still grinning, and winked before flying off to go search for the snitch. Draco blushed deeply. For a moment he wondered if Harry had really winked, but upon hearing his ridiculous laughter, he knew he had. 

“Idiot,” Draco said under his breath, but he was smiling as he flew back toward Harry. They flew for a while, laughing and joking. Draco realized he wished he’d been friends with Harry his whole time at Hogwarts. There was something about this, and him: Unapologetic happiness. Harry was able to enjoy any moment in life, probably because he’d grown up with less-than-ideal moments. This was Harry Potter after the war, who didn’t need to worry about being killed, or his loved ones being killed. This was a Harry who allowed himself to relax and be happy, for once. Draco liked this Harry a lot. 

Draco was ripped out of his thoughts by Harry speeding by him on his broom. He had spotted the snitch, and Draco raced after him. They were neck and neck, the snitch a few feet in front of them, and they were flying so fast and Harry was grinning and—

They hit the ground. 

Draco didn’t know what was happening: One moment he was flying through the air, the snitch a few inches away, and then he opened his eyes to see Harry Potter sprawled on top of him.

“Oh,” Harry said, after a groan of pain. He sat up and realized where he was. “Oh,” he said again.

Draco struggled to find words. Harry Potter was on top of him. Straddling him. Draco couldn’t focus on anything except for Harry’s hips and his mess of his hair and the way his chest heaved with breath. 

“Draco?” Harry asked. “Did I knock the wind out of you?” 

“Yeah,” Draco breathed, grateful for the cover. Harry grinned. 

“Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t move. Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted him to move. 

“Er, are you going to…” Draco trailed off. Harry was still lightly smiling. 

“Oh! Sorry,” Harry said, and jumped up. He held a hand out to Draco, who took it and stood. 

“No worries,” Draco said, cheeks pink. Harry wouldn’t stop grinning. “Where’s the snitch?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harry answered, looking up through the stadium. Draco searched with him. Eventually, Harry’s eyes snagged on the blur of gold up near one of the goal posts. Harry quickly jumped on his broom and flew up to catch it. When he landed back on the ground, Draco had mostly composed himself. 

“Wanna get lunch before Herbology?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded. They walked to the Great Hall and sat at the eighth-year table, where Ron and Hermione sat already. 

“Alright, Harry? You look like you just got attacked,” Ron said, on guard. Harry laughed. 

“The only thing that attacked us was the ground,” Harry said, slinging an arm around Draco’s shoulders. Draco struggled to find words. 

“You think you’d know how to fly by now,” Draco said, and Ron snorted. 

“You crashed too!” Harry said, indignant. 

“Because you ran into me,” Draco said calmly, leaning across the table to pick up a sandwich. Harry’s arm was still resting across his shoulders. 

“Harry’s never been very lucky,” remarked Hermione, and Harry laughed. 

“I’m lucky enough to be alive,” Harry said, and then he frowned. Ron patted his shoulder, and Hermione looked distraught. Draco cleared his throat. 

“Still a shitty seeker though,” Draco said, trying to change the somber mood. Harry smirked, grateful. 

“Says you,” Harry said, and Draco rolled his eyes. Ron and Hermione shared a glance over the table. 

“Flirting! They were flirting!” Ron yelled, as soon as he and Hermione were out of the Great Hall and in the corridor. 

“They have been all year,” Hermione said calmly.

“What the fuck!” Ron yelled. 

“Ron, I don’t know why you’re shocked. You know Harry’s gay.”

“It’s not that! It’s the fact that it’s Malfoy!” 

“Listen, Harry has good judgement. If he likes Malfoy, then I say it’s a good sign of his character.” Ron shook his head at this, ducking into the Great Hall to look at the eighth-year table. Harry and Draco were laughing quietly. 

“This is not going to end well,” Ron said, worriedly.

“You don’t know that, Ron.” Hermione said, and she tossed Draco and Harry a smile as she dragged Ron back to the common room. 

That night, Draco was coming back from the library when he came upon a sight he wasn’t prepared for. Harry, alone in the dormitory, wearing only boxers. He seemed to be in the middle of changing his clothes. Draco considered backing out for a moment, pretending like he hadn’t seen anything, but then Harry turned and smiled at him.

“Hey, Draco. How was the library?” Harry asked casually, and Draco stuttered. He knew Harry could see his blush. 

“Er, um, fine,” Draco said, and Harry chuckled. 

“You alright?” Harry asked, moving closer. Draco gulped. Harry was close, too close, and wearing not enough clothes. Jesus, had he never heard of personal space? Draco felt his face getting hotter. 

“I’m fine,” Draco said, and tried to back up. His back hit the wall, and Harry was still too close. 

“Are you sure? You seem a little… red,” Harry said, quietly, and Draco all of the sudden realized. Harry knew. Harry knew he liked him and this was his idea of torture. Harry’s eyes glinted with mischief.  _ God _ , Draco thought.  _ He was going to die. _

“I’m fine,” Draco said again. Harry grinned. 

“Alright,” he said, and there was a pause, and Draco thought he might move closer, but then Harry backed away and pulled on his pants, then a shirt. Draco didn’t move. 

“I’m going to meet Ron and Hermione at Hagrid’s,” Harry said, pushing past Draco and opening the dormitory door. “See you later.”

“Bye,” Draco said. “Fuck,” he added, when he was sure Harry had left. Just then, Blaise walked into the dorm. 

“Draco, are you okay?” Blaise asked, concerned. “You look red.”

“I’m fine,” Draco said, for a third time, but Blaise shook his head. 

“No, you’re not. We’ve been friends for too long for you to lie to me.” 

“Blaise, it’s fine,” Draco said. 

“Is it Potter? Did he do something?” Blaise asked, and Draco snorted. 

“You could say that,” Draco said, and immediately regretted it. 

“What did that bastard do?” Blaise asked angrily. 

“Nothing, nothing!” Draco said hurriedly. “Besides ruin my life,” Draco added, and slid down the wall. Blaise looked confused. “I like him, Blaise. I really like him.”

“Oh,” Blaise said, chuckling. “I know.”  
“You know?” Draco asked, looking up. Blaise nodded. 

“You’ve been obsessed with him for forever. It’s not hard to figure out,” Blaise said. 

“Shit,” Draco said. “Do you think  _ he _ knows?” Draco was already pretty sure he knew. He thought of Harry’s smirk, his face close to Draco’s. Shit. 

“Potter’s oblivious as hell, but you’re also  _ obvious  _ as hell. I’m not sure.”

“Do you think I should tell him?” Draco asked, and Blaise thought for a moment.

“I think that this is our last year at Hogwarts, and you shouldn’t leave with any regrets,” Blaise said, then he patted Draco on the shoulder, and then he grabbed his robes and left. 

“Shit,” Draco said again. 

 

Harry was enjoying messing with Draco. He leaned to close when they talked, and watched Draco squirm. He twirled the end of his quill around his tongue when studying and watched Draco blush. Draco seemed utterly confused to be on the receiving end of the Golden Boy’ flirting. Every day Draco said he would do it, he would tell Harry how he felt, but then Harry would show up, sweaty from quidditch or just on the way back from the shower and Draco would stutter and Harry would flirt and then Draco would be left fighting back a blush and sometimes a boner. 

It was a cruel cycle. 

“Hey Draco.” 

Draco looked up from his arithmancy textbook, and offered Harry a wave as he sat down at Draco’s table in the library. 

“Whatcha doing?” Harry asked, propping his feet up on the table. 

“Studying, as you could have probably figured from the book in my hand,” Draco said, smirking. Harry laughed. 

“Fair enough, we all know I’m not too observant,” Harry said, and Draco glanced at him. He knew that wasn’t totally true, but he let it go. “Want to go get something to eat?” 

“I’m  _ studying _ , Potter. Busy.” 

“C’mon, Draco, you’re always studying. You’ve always got those damn books in your hands, when you could have much  _ better _ things in your hands.” 

Draco looked up sharply.  
“Like food,” Harry said innocently, but Draco knew from his unsubtle wink that that wasn’t what he meant. Draco took a deep breath. 

“Fine. Give me five minutes,” Draco said, and Harry grinned. Five minutes later, they were walking down the corridor towards the Great Hall. Harry was telling some joke, smiling and resting an arm across Draco’s shoulders. He’d been doing that a lot lately. 

“Draco? Are you okay? You’re not talking,” Harry asked. Draco sighed, and then pulled Harry into an empty classroom. 

“You want to talk? Let’s talk. You need to  _ stop _ ,” Draco said, facing Harry.

“Stop what?” 

“Oh come on, you know what. The flirting. The little touches, the dirty jokes, all of it. You need to stop it because if you don’t I’m going to end up doing something that you probably don’t want.” 

“I…” Harry said, and then he took a step closer. Definitely too close for friendly conversation. “What are you going to do?” 

“Dammit, Harry,” Draco said, looking at Harry’s smirk, and his raised eyebrows, and his fucking beautiful eyes. 

“Do it, Draco,” Harry said, low, and Draco needed no more prompting. He surged forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s, grabbing him by the back of the neck. Harry reacted immediately, pulling Draco closer. One of Harry’s hands threaded through Draco’s hair and he made a noise that probably was embarrassing, but he didn’t care. 

“God,” Harry breathed, and then he pivoted both of their bodies so Draco was pressed against one of the tables in the classroom. Understanding, Draco hopped up onto the table and wrapped his legs around Harry. Harry moved his mouth to Draco’s neck, licking and nipping as Draco struggled to breathe because  _ holy shit, Harry Potter was kissing his neck _ . Draco tightened his legs around Harry, bringing him closer and providing much appreciated friction around Draco’s crotch. 

“Holy shit,” Draco said, and Harry pulled back slightly, his face flushed and lips swollen. 

“Is this okay?” Harry asked, and Draco grinned. 

“More than okay.” 

Harry needed no more prompting, and he leaned forward to kiss Draco again. Harry nudged Draco’s robe off, which Draco thought was a  _ brilliant _ idea, because then Harry was unbuttoning Draco’s shirt and mouthing his way down his chest and Draco felt like this was probably the best thing to happen, ever. Draco was hard, and as Harry backed up to shrug off his own robe, he could see Harry was too. Just that sight was enough to draw an almost-whine from Draco’s lips. Draco slid off the table and tugged at Harry’s tie, pulling him closer to press their mouths together. Harry slid a leg between Draco’s knees, and then their dicks were touching through their pants and Harry made a noise that Draco thought should be illegal. 

He wanted to hear it again. 

He moved his hips, grinding against Harry. The Boy Who Lived made an absolutely  _ filthy _ noise. Draco smirked, grinding again. Harry was breathing hard, but he pulled slightly away. Draco was almost disappointed, but then he realized Harry was unbuttoning his pants and  _ yeah okay this was something that was happening _ . After a quick confirming look at Draco, who nodded, Harry pulled Draco’s cock out of his pants. Harry after pressing a kiss to Draco’s lips, knelt in front of Draco. 

“Holy shit,” was all Draco could say. When Harry wrapped his mouth around Draco, he was sure every thought running through his head turned to mush. Draco moaned as Harry twirled his tongue around the head of Draco’s cock. Draco placed a hand on Harry’s head, grabbing onto his hair. Harry made a pleased noise as he dragged his tongue up the underside of Draco’s prick, slow and wet. Draco didn’t think he’d survive this. He experimentally moved his hips, and when Harry’s head bobbed with him, Draco moved again, setting a rhythm and fucking into Harry’s mouth. Harry moaned and gripped the back of Draco’s thighs tightly. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” Draco said, leaning his head back. A few moments later, Harry sucked, hard, and Draco came with a strangled moan. Harry swallowed and grinned. He stood back up, kissing Draco slowly. He could taste himself on Harry’s lips which might have been gross, but was mostly really fucking hot. 

“Woah,” Draco said, and Harry agreed. 

“You’re really fucking hot.” 

“Ditto, Potter,” Draco said, and then noticed that Harry was still very hard. “Do you want me to…”

“Tonight,” Harry said. “I want to make you wait.”

“You love torturing me, don’t you?” Draco said, buttoning his shirt back up. 

“Maybe,” Harry said, grinning. They dressed and left the empty classroom, a few minutes apart. 

And maybe, they only made it until dinner before they were rushing back to their dorm but it was technically evening, so Harry thought it counted. 

**Author's Note:**

> that's it! wahoo, my first drarry work! thanks 4 reading y'all.


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